


If I Were to Tell You

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Post S3, Sherlock AU, based on TPLOSH, modern day TPLOSH, no baby watson sorry, post mary morstan, the private life of sherlock holmes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And you, you've got backup to prove you've been with women. Right? Or am I being presumptuous?" he grinned and dashed over until his face was a hairs breath from Sherlocks.</p><p>Sherlock stared into his eyes for a brief moment and he could've sworn he saw a spark of something he couldn't quiet identify but the moment was over before it began. Sherlock lifted his chin, straightened his back and removed the cigarette from his mouth as he walked away. John couldn't quite figure out exactly what he'd implied that was offensive.<br/>"The answer is yes," Sherlock said as he turned partially, to face the other man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Were to Tell You

**Author's Note:**

> **VERSION TWO**
> 
> I love The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes and in it there's a scene where Sherlock says that John is his glass of tea and that they've lived together, two bachelors, for five happy years. I wasn't happy with John's reaction and outrage so I re-wrote a happier ending for our loves. This takes place in modern day but I did make John's bedroom closer to Sherlocks. I sort of melded it with Post S3/post Mary fall out. 
> 
> Thank you for reading :-)

  
It was well past midnight and John Watson was very nearly wearing holes in the carpet as he paced back and forth.  
Earlier that day, Sherlock had let it slip that he fancied his flatmate and best friend. Sherlock had taken a rather large risk by telling others that they were in an established relationship. One that he hadn't informed John he'd be taking before he did it. John had been merrily dancing with the Russian ballet as Sherlock spoke privately to one Madam Petrova.

  
He'd noticed the shift in the gender of the dancers surrounding him but hadn't thought anything of it. He had been deep into his alcohol by this hour and allowed his inhabitions to lower only slightly. After sometime he'd confronted the female ballet dancers about why they'd left but they had no answers. He'd learned third hand from another man that apparently he and Sherlock were two confirmed bachelors who had been happily living together at 221B for five glorious years.  
He'd stormed the stairs and burst into the room immediately after and confronted Sherlock about it.

  
"I've a reputation to uphold! If word gets out...if rumors are started it'll get back to my regime and I'll never live it down. We can't allow this. I know! We'll get married!" he shouted, with glee as he turned to face Sherlock. His face reflected his joy at this apparent stroke of genius.

  
"Then they'd really talk!", Sherlock replied coyly as he smoked his cigarette. A time like this called for nicotine. He was relieved to see that John had calmed somewhat.

  
"Wait, we've nothing to hide!", John replied.

  
"I know, that's what I told you. After all you've quite a reputation to back you up.", quipped Sherlock.

  
John crossed the room and smiled to himself. They might just be okay after all and he wouldn't have to find new housing. They could nip this rumor in the bud before it even began. Turning on his heel he faced Sherlock.

  
"And you, you've got backup to prove you've been with women. Right? Or am I being presumptuous?" he grinned and dashed over until his face was a hairs breath from Sherlocks.

  
Sherlock stared into his eyes for a brief moment and he could've sworn he saw a spark of something he couldn't quiet identify but the moment was over before it began. Sherlock lifted his chin, straightened his back and removed the cigarette from his mouth as he walked away. John couldn't quite figure out exactly what he'd implied that was offensive.

  
"The answer is yes," Sherlock said as he turned partially, to face the other man.

  
Johns face lit up with relief. He knew his flatmate had only been putting on a show when he'd promptly refused Madam Petrovas offer to father her child and simply walk away. He'd been faking it when he'd told them that he, John Watson, was his glass of tea and that they'd been happily living together for five years. Of course. He'd allowed himself to think, for a brief moment, that the opposite might be true but had quickly dashed that thought. He'd never felt he was a catch and surely he could never catch the eye of the illustrious Sherlock Holmes.

  
"Yes, you're being presumptuous," Sherlock replied as he spun away on his heel and left without a second glance.  
John couldn't remember just how long he stood there with mouth gaping as he attempted to understand if he'd heard right. Sherlock Holmes had never been with a woman. Surely this couldn't mean...?

  
Shaking himself out of his whimsical pondering, he built a warm fire and sat by it silently as he tried to sort out this new information and how it concerned him. For a moment he contemplated stepping into his consulting detectives room and waking him. The curiosity was eating him alive inside. He needed to know if he was alone in the stirrings he felt when they were in the same room.

  
After much brandy and around three in the morning, he decided to do just that. He stumbled toward Sherlock's bedroom door and gently pushed it open, it made a loud creaking noise as it moved. He could see the silhouette of his friend as he lay on his side with one hand under his pillow and the other simply lying there. He looked absolutely peaceful, which was rare for him. Even in the darkness, John could easily see every feature. He'd memorized them over the years.

  
Clumsily and nearly knocking a piece of furniture over, he kneeled beside of Sherlocks head and reached out to stroke the hair that fell across his forehead. He hadn't woke yet and maybe it was the liquor flowing red hot in his veins or something stronger, but he rocked forward on his heels and pressed his forehead to Sherlocks as he slept.

  
This, of course, woke him. He stared back at John with bleary eyes and blinked as they adjusted.

  
"John?," he questioned as he pushed himself to a sitting position on the bed.

  
John, still kneeling at the bedside and wobbling slightly, grinned back at him without saying a word.

  
"Are you alright? Have you been drinking?", Sherlock furrowed his brow as he stared at him in confusion.

  
" 'maybe I have, maybe not", John slurred as he reached forward and placed his hand on Sherlocks slightly larger one. Sherlock looked down at the motion and then his eyes darted quickly back to Johns.

  
"Lets get you safe in bed now, seems you've had a bit too much to drink", Sherlock murmured as he swung his feet over the bed and lifted John up off of the ground as he placed his arm around Johns waist.

  
"You said....women but you said...and I always...I always hoped", John trailed off as they made their way to the adjoining bedroom. He nearly tripped over his own feet twice but Sherlock was there to hold his waist tightly. John found that he rather enjoyed the radiating warm that his hand provided.

  
If Sherlock heard his incoherent sentence, he chose not to respond.

  
Upon reaching John's bed, he gently released him and pushed him down on the bed as he covered him with duvets. Clearly John had no idea what he was on about and was merely rambling. He wished deeply that the words he'd heard were true but he dared not hope.

  
"Goodnight, John", he whispered and, feeling brave, pressed a soft kiss to Johns forehead.

  
"Sher...Sherlock...I...wait. Don't go, I didn't...mean it, you...I...", John stumbled over his words and hoped that they made more sense to Sherlock than they did as they fell out of his mouth. He turned toward Sherlock just in time to see him walking out the door, softly closing it behind him.

  
As much as Sherlock wanted this, he was afraid that tomorrow would only bring regret if he didn't leave.  
\----------  
**The Next Morning**

  
"Could you pass the sugar?", Sherlock asked as they sat across from one another and enjoyed tea and biscuits. The memory of last night was still fresh in his mind and he'd replayed the words repeatedly. He hadn't been able to sleep so he'd played his violin and read an old textbook.

  
"Did you sleep well last night?" John questioned as he pressed the sugar bowl into Sherlocks hand then rubbed his eyes. His head was positively aching but he had a vague recollection of sharing personal things with his flatmate. He wondered if the subject would be broached and a part of him hoped it would be. The silence was deafening.

  
"I slept fine. And you?" Sherlock countered as he stirred sugar and cream into his tea, careful not to meet Johns gaze.

  
"Mmm, not too good. I had slightly too much to drink I suppose," he laughed to himself as if he'd told a sly joke.

  
"It did seem that way", Sherlock quipped as he plucked a jam filled biscuit and took a bite. He rarely ate breakfast but he needed something to serve as a buffer.

  
"Did I...? I don't remember going to bed. Did you?", and there it was.

  
"I did, yes. You could hardly walk so I took you to your room", Sherlock responded with a wave of his hand, as if it were nothing of importance. After all it wasn't the first time but this one seemed different and they both knew it. The unspoken had been put to words and they couldn't be taken back.

  
"Ah, ssgood. Good. Sherlock...about what you said. The women. Have you...", John broke off as he took a sip of tea to partially hide his face. They couldn't avoid this forever.

  
"I do not know to what you're referring", Sherlock replied coolly.

  
"You know very well what I'm referring to. You said you...you'd no experience with women," John retorted. He hadn't made it this far for Sherlock to simply pretend it was a figment of his imagination.

  
"What do you want to know?" Sherlock questioned as he met John's eyes, hoping he looked braver than he felt. They'd never discussed dating matters. It was always assumed that John enjoyed the company of the female sex and Sherlock was buried in his work.

  
"Does this mean you've never...never...um...kissed a woman or?", John stammered and wished he'd never brought up the subject. He didn't like the thought of Sherlock being with anyone else. He'd tried to tamper down that feeling for far too many years but had recently accepted it.

  
"Primary school. Her name was Penny and we were 11. She smelled of dirt and detergent. It wasn't particularly pleasant," he stated, matter of factly.

  
"11? Not since then?," John couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sherlock was an attractive man and he'd witnessed women advancing on him before but Sherlock had dismissed them, citing cases and workloads.

  
"I'm afraid not," he said as he stretched and reclined slightly in his chair.

  
"No girlfriends then? Boyfriends?," he wished he could call back the words before he'd said them as Sherlock's face quickly turned to meet his eyes and something glittered in them. They seemed to darken.

  
"No, girlfriends. Not really my area", he remarked, without breaking eye contact.

  
Coughing and forcing himself to look at something else, anything else, John said, with downcast eyes "Boyfriends then. That's good, that's good. That's fine."

  
"I know it's fine," Sherlock retorted as he licked his lips and turned his attention to the birds outside of the window.

  
"Dinner?," John asked and decided they'd discuss this as length then. Somehow the night seemed safer.

  
"Chinese?," Sherlock replied as he sipped at his tea, by all appearances looking completely calm.

  
"Chinese it is," John moved to collect the dishes and decided to catch up on his blog to pass the time.

  
Sherlock spent half the day working on partially finished and mostly discarded experiments. Neither spoke unless to ask the other about dinner, tea or Mrs. Turner next door. She'd become quite friendly with the two of them and grinned widely whenever she saw them together. Something was amiss and they both knew it.

  
Later that night as they sat at the table, picking at orange chicken and lo mein, John gathered up the courage once more and decided to throw caution to the wind. After losing Sherlock for two years he'd be damned if they'd waste another minute.

  
"There's something...something I need to say and I need you to listen. Don't. Don't interrupt. Can you do this for me?," John replied with a voice that he hoped came across as certain and not as nervous as he felt.

  
Sherlock leaned forward in his chair and pushed his plate away. The proximity was nearly as unnerving as his gaze.

  
"I'm listening," he stated.

  
"You said you hadn't been with women. You didn't deny boyfriends which means you must...must prefer...your own, um gender. It's...it's fine as I've mentioned before. I just, I need to know one thing, Sherlock. We've spent too many months and years apart and I'm tired. I don't want to do this anymore, do you understand?," John braved a glance at Sherlock and found his staring quizzically back. He'd hardly moved.

  
"Anyway, moving along. Me. How do you feel about...about...me?", he blinked rapidly and twirled lo mein with his fork, absent mindedly.

  
"You're my best friend, John. I regret that I had to leave you on your own for two years and if I could've done it any other way, you have to understand that I would have. I needed you to stay alive," he calmly said, knowing full and well that he was dancing around the inevitable.

  
"No. Not that. You know what I'm talking about," John said, sternly as he set his jaw. This wasn't going to be easy.

  
"I don't understand."

  
"Me, Sherlock. You're my best friend too and and I know this but...beyond that. I felt...you..I remember. You kissed my forehead last night. Why did you do that?" there was no turning back now.

  
Sherlock looked slightly shocked and downcast his eyes. If John didn't know better he would've sworn the man was embarrassed.

  
"I care deeply for you, John. I always have," he hoped that John read the meaning in his words.

  
"Sherlock, you COCK. You know what I'm saying. Don't make me say it. Don't do this," he could feel his blood simmering in his veins like hot cinnamon. He was quickly losing his footing and verging into unknown territory.

  
"You stood in front of my wedding guests and told them what you could never tell me. We both know this, it's out in the open now and we've...we've wasted enough time," John continued and braced himself for Sherlocks answer. Instead he got rapid blinking and a look of confusion as Sherlock tried to make sense of what he was hearing. It almost sounded too good to be true. After all they'd been through, all he'd put John through surely he couldn't possibly love him back?

  
"I. Yes. It's true. I meant every word, you're the most important person in my life John," he said after regaining his composure. The words 'I love you, please don't ever leave me' were on the tip of his tongue but they were too heavy to spit out.

  
"Sherlock Holmes, you prick. Why didn't you ever tell me?", John challenged as he looked at the man in front of him. He would gladly die a million deaths if it meant he'd never have to watch Sherlocks coffin being lowered into the ground another time. He would surrender himself to a thousand Jim Moriarty's. Everything that had led up to this moment was worth it. Even the two years apart though he'd hardly survived and spent everyday wishing he hadn't.

  
"You had a new life, John. I didn't want to impose," Sherlock stated with his voice cracking slightly as he looked away.

  
"Some life. My wife tried to kill you and then I find out the baby isn't even mine. Not to mention you, vanishing from my life entirely.," the words burned on his tongue and acid churned in his stomach at the thought of Mary, the wedding, the baby, the after math when it all came crashing down and he'd found himself, a broken man, moving back to 221B.

  
Sherlock smiled to himself sadly. He couldn't help but blame himself for that disaster. If he hadn't left...

  
"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes, do you understand that you are my life? Since the first day I met you. I've never felt so alive. I don't want to know what it feels like to not see you everyday, to not bicker over your smoking habit and various body parts though you've improved on that part," he reached across the table and took Sherlocks hand, turning it over to intertwine their fingers, much to Sherlocks shock.

  
"I don't know what to say. I...I feel that way as well, John.," he lightly squeezed Johns hand and looked back at him with soft eyes.

  
"Come here, you idiot", John said as he grinned widely and walked over to Sherlock. He placed a shaking hand under his chin and lifted it slightly as Sherlocks eyes fluttered closed. He licked his lips and pressed them to Sherlocks. All at once, he felt like his heart was going to explode.

Sherlock opened his mouth slightly and John took the initiative. He slipped his tongue inside and found Sherlocks as he moaned slowly. Sherlock deepened the kiss and wrapped long arms around Johns waist as he pulled him closer.  
By the time the kiss was over they were both nearly breathless. John rested his forehead on Sherlock's and laughed out loud.

  
"What's so funny? Did I do it wrong?", Sherlock questioned, looking confused and offended.

  
"You were fine, it was fine. It's just...you, me. This. I never...we wasted so much time," he met Sherlocks eyes as he brushed his thumb against the palm of his hand. An innocent gesture but it sent his heart racing.

  
"We have all the time in the world now, John," Sherlock replied lazily, as he led John to the sofa.

They ungracefully collapsed onto it with Sherlock stretching out and taking up most of the room. John scooted in close and pressed his ear against Sherlock's very real and beating heart and hoped this wasn't all a cruel dream.

  
"I love you," he whispered and wondered if Sherlock even heard him.

  
"I have always loved you, John Watson," he breathed as he pulled John closer.

  
If it were to begin anywhere, it would begin here.

A love that stretched on long past retirement and bees with a tiny cottage in Sussex. A love that would be talked about for many generations.  



End file.
